The first of many fires was in front of them now, and they had to skirt the beaten path to get around it. A pair of wagons had wrecked in the middle of the road, and now served as fuel for a bonfire. A bolt of what was once probably fine, white spider-silk lace was flaming green at the edge of the mess. Beside it laid a charred corpse, whose arms and legs had drawn up into a fetal ball.
The sound of fighting still echoed from the distance. As grim as the fires were, they were drawing people to them. Hyden saw the burning wagons’ flickering glow reflected in hundreds of eyes. They were everywhere. The people who had survived the day’s insanity watched them pass, with fear and sorrow on their faces. It was unnerving to say the least.
When the fire was behind them, Vaegon spoke.
“I can be across the river and back by morning with the squat weed. It would be foolish, and dangerous, to be out on the Ways searching for the herb, with all the hatred and vengeance that has permeated this place. Among your clansmen, Hyden Hawk, that is where you and the Westland Lord should spend this night.”
“It’s Gregory, you blasted demon. My name is Gregory. Lord Gregory!” the nobleman said. “I’ve got to get into the mountains. I cannot delay!”
He was slumped forward over his saddle horn and sweating profusely, even though the breeze coming down off the mountains was relatively cool.
“Lord Gregory,” Vaegon corrected, as respectfully as he could manage. “Your Brawl with the tattooed man has caused most of this. I know you did not intend it to happen, just as I never intended to see past my hatred for your race, but here we are, nonetheless. If you truly wish to find a giant, then go with Hyden Hawk. When your mind is not so clouded with the poison’s fire, you’ll understand.”
“Why do you hate us?” Hyden asked Vaegon, without any anger in his tone.
“Some wrongs, no matter how ancient they may be, cannot be forgotten. Like a scar remains on the flesh to remind the bearer of the wound and the circumstances that created it.”
“Then, I hope the scars on your face from the shattered arrow this morning, show plainly for all to see,” Hyden said with a deep intensity. “Let them remind those who look upon you, that it is sometimes better to be scarred than not.”
Vaegon considered the words for a long time, and then nodded at the wisdom of them. He made a fist, placed it over his heart, and then made a short bow towards Hyden. The significance of the gesture was lost to Hyden, but he returned it anyway.
The gesture meant several different things, depending on the situation in which it was used: honor, respect, understanding, friendship, and love, to name but a few. In this instance, Vaegon had meant most of them.
Chapter 18
Gerard had never ridden a horse before. The Skyler Clan’s isolated culture had never adopted the practice of using beasts of burden for personal transportation. There was no need for them: the terrain was often too steep and inhospitable, and the winters were far too harsh, to try and keep animals that couldn’t stand to be confined in an underground pen for almost half of the year. To endure the mountain winters, the Skyler Clan’s folk lived in underground burrows. It was a necessity of survival.
Outside of the few times Gerard, Hyden and their young cousins had tried to ride the big horned billy goats that Berda’s husband herded, Gerard had never tried to ride any sort of creature at all. It was an awkward and thrilling feeling. Especially since the group had left in the dark of night just after Bludgeon had died.
A strange looking man, tall, pale-skinned, and bald as an egg, was the lead rider. His name was Cole and he wore wizard’s robes, and carried a lantern for them to follow – at least it seemed to be a lantern’s light. Gerard wasn’t sure that the light was all that natural. They followed the man on a mad dash southward, to the north end of the river’s huge, lake-like, swell, called the Belly. They stopped there at the water’s edge that first night, and made a cook fire as the sun came up on the morning of Summer’s Day.
When Gerard dismounted from the horse that Shaella had provided for him, he stumbled along on watery legs, and fell to the ground. Laughing at himself, with the others of the group, he looked around, and in that pink light of dawn, saw that on one side of the make-shift camp was an endless expanse of silvery blue water, while on the other side, was a sea of grassy green valley bottom. Both extended as far as the eye could see.
There were six men, besides him in the group, and all of them, save for Cole and his would-be twin Flick, were roaring at his folly. The laughter stopped abruptly though, when Shaella crawled on top of him right there, where he was sprawled in the dewy grass, and began kissing him deeply. She rubbed and squeezed his inner thighs where the ride had made them sore, until he was dazed and breathless.
“There’s something a few of us must tend to,” she whispered into his ear. Her hot, sweet breath made his head swim. “We won’t be long, and besides, it will give the potion time to do its work on your back and legs.” She kissed him again before he could respond.